


The subtle art of keeping your newborn alive

by Mickeysam



Series: Taking in Strays [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Male Bonding, established romanogers, mostly - Freeform, parental bonding time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 20:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickeysam/pseuds/Mickeysam
Summary: The art of baby rearing has changed a lot in 70 years, and Steve wasn't exactly an expert to begin with.





	The subtle art of keeping your newborn alive

"Don't laugh," Steve pointed at Sam in warning.  
  
Sam pursed his lips, obviously trying not to as he seated himself across from Steve, "I'm uh... really trying not to man, but I gotta ask... glasses?"  
  
Steve sighed, adjusting his black rimmed 'hipster' glasses,  "I'm incognito." Natasha had taught him long ago that the best way to be unnoticed was to change things minutely, "Hoodies and hats aren't exactly subtle in June, so I have to go for something else.” He ran his fingers through his hair, letting it stand even more on end, and spread his arms so Sam could get a good look at the Nirvana t-shirt he wore. “Can you tell?”  
  
Sam snickered, "All you're missing is the pencil line beard all the way around." He glanced over the table at the car seat Steve had wedged on the bench seat between himself and the wall. "Hey, lil dude," He gave the baby a nod of acknowledgment, reaching across and flicking one of the toy stars that hung above Ilya from the handle of the car seat, "If you've got him, where's Nat?"  
  
"She's hauled Wanda out shopping for clothes. I volunteered but she laughed at me for it. Nat laughed at me," Steve tried to sound more outraged than he felt, "I am a great dresser."  
  
"I'm sure you have a fantastic taste in skirts." Sam agreed congenially.  
  
"Better than Thor. He tagged along, something about plushies in his image."  
  
"That's fantastic. Wait, is the kid incognito too? Please tell me he's got a 'lady killer' onesie on." Sam leaned across the table to get a look, laughing when Steve swatted at him to make him sit back on his own side.  
  
"He's in stripes, thank you, that onesie was terrible. I think Natasha tossed it in the rag box."  
  
"Okay, okay. So we having a boy's day out? I can think of better places than hole in the wall diners for that. Not that I'm dissing the food," he settled back against the corner of his booth seat, picking up the menu.  
  
"Hey, I was hungry," Steve stuck his hand into the carrier when Ilya made a fussing noise, resting his palm on the baby's chest and shushing him lightly til he quieted. "And no, it's less a boy's day out and more... So look, Google is unreliable, and I'm fairly certain you won't lie to me, and won't tattle on me."  
  
Sam grinned, "What'd you do?"  
  
"So I was an only child, but Bucky wasn't. Sometimes we'd hang out at his house and he had little sisters. Now his mom used to feed the babies teaspoons of orange juice and fish oil before bedtime."  
  
"Please tell me you didn't give that baby orange juice."  
  
Steve tried not to look too guilty, "Little bit?"  
  
"He spit it up all over you?"  
  
"He looked absolutely disgusted," Steve agreed. "So I was looking up how you're meant to do it and some parts of Google were telling me it's a very bad idea to give babies anything. Like anything."  
  
Sam nodded in agreement, flipping through the thin menu, "What'd Natasha say?"  
  
"She can never know. She'd already know it was a bad idea, and probably make fun of me for it," Steve warned him, "This stays between us and the one who won't remember it."  
  
"Okay, got it. So, you figured that out, what else do you need to know? I mean, Google should tell you anything you're missing."  
  
Steve stared at him a moment, "Sam, Google occasionally tells me that vaccinations cause something called Autism and death, and sometimes tells me it's a miracle."  
  
Same snorted, "Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem. I can't promise I'm the baby master, but what all do you want to know?"  
  
"So orange juice bad. How about fish liver oil?"  
  
"That shit's nasty even as an adult, but no we don't give it to babies."  
  
\---  
  
"What do you do for Asthma now?"   
  
"Nebulizer, inhalers, medication, lots of steam to help clear the airways," Sam drug a fry through ketchup on his plate, "What'd you do for it when you were little?"  
  
Steve looked blank for a moment, hand frozen holding his cup halfway to his mouth, "Blosser’s. Too much of that would make you see things though. Sometimes some cough syrups I'm pretty sure no one's allowed to sell today. My doctor gave me cigarettes."  
  
"Step one, don't give a baby cigarettes or illegal drugs."  
  
"I think it was all perfectly legal back then."  
  
\---  
  
"How about cereal?" Steve shifted Ilya in his arms, settling the baby with his bottle.  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"Well they used to feed it to babies to help them sleep better. I think mom said I had it when I was just out of the hospital."  
  
Sam made a face, "No. No. That's like wait until the kid's months old now. I think. I'm pretty sure they're not supposed to have any food besides milk until they're a year old."  
  
"Really?" Steve patted Ilya's back absently, holding the bottle up for him when he snuffled, hand resting over Steve's. "Isn't formula bad for them? I thought you were supposed to supplement with vitamins."  
  
"Formula's just as good as breast milk. Besides, I'm pretty sure wet nurses aren't really a thing anymore. You could ask the next person you see with a baby." Sam ducked his head to hide a laugh at the look they were given by the waitress coming by and offering drink refills.  
Steve didn't have the ability to hide his face, instead having to politely thank her while his cheeks turned pink.  
  
\---  
  
"Hey, Mama," Sam tilted his phone unnecessarily so Steve could hear it. "So I told you my friend's a new dad, right? Yeah. We're having a bit of a debate, and since you raised such fine specimens for children, I'm sure you have the most accurate answer."  
  
Steve rolled his eyes, mouthing 'suck up' at Sam. Ilya on his shoulder made a grunting noise as Steve patted his back trying to burp him which Steve took as the baby being on his side.  
  
"Nothing big. Just wondering what's better, cloth diapers or disposable ones? And do the cloth ones still have the big pins in them?"  
  
\---  
  
"Okay, but how necessary are car seats?" Steve interjected over a debate between traditional diaper covers, and the new rubber pants that Sam's aunt's youngest daughter was using with her children. "Back in my day we didn't really have them. Bucky's older sister had this little seat with toy beads on it, but the little one just got held or had a bassinet on the seat. What?" He said defensively at Sam's look, "I get seat belts are a thing now, but do you really need a seat belt, a giant defensive shell, and some weird six point harness to protect a baby?"  
  
There was silence from Sam and his mother for a moment before he heard the deep breath and quiet prayer on the other end of the line that made him shrink in his seat a little.  
  
"I still put him in it," Steve offered as he heard Mrs. Wilson clear her throat, gearing up for a lecture, "I'm just curious how necessary they are."  
  
\---

  
"What about baths?" Steve asked as Sam's mother paused in her lecture about car seats and accidents, ears ringing.  
  
_"What about them?"_ Thankfully Mrs. Wilson allowed the change of topic. Steve could hear ice clinking in the background, and for some reason it amused him to picture her sat up in her living room relaxing while she lectured him on 'not killing that poor baby'.  
  
"Do they still encourage using warm mineral oil? My mom's red cross books had some bits about warm mineral oil baths, I think. That memory's not so great, and I was not involved in Barnes bath time, no matter what lies history might propagate."  
  
_"First of all, ignore any and all advice you find in any medical books before at least 1990, especially if they mention how to deal with genitals."_  
  
Steve winced at the word that seemed to echo in the diner, and Sam scrambled to turn the volume down while trying not to choke on his burger. "Yeah?"  
  
_"Butchers. They thought babies couldn't feel pain up through the 80s."_  
  
"They can? I thought newborns couldn't?" Steve paused, looking down at Ilya, "I also heard they couldn't hear or see for the first two days."  
  
_"That would be a cat, not your infant. Please don't mix the two."_  
  
\---  
  
"Alright, thank --- yeah, thank you, Mama," Sam flipped the phone off of speaker, not that it did anything to dim the voice of Mrs. Wilson to Steve's ears.   
  
_"You tell that man he better bring that baby down to meet me soon. I need to know my sons acquaintances you know."_  
  
"Of course. Next time we're all down in DC. You know you don't take a baby away from it's mom at this age," Sam half joked, and Steve almost flinched at the thought of Natasha's reaction if he took Ilya out of town without her, let alone out of state. Mark that down as 'never to do'.  
  
_"Speaking of moms and that age,"_ He could hear the clinking of ice again, the sound of a something being poured, _"You tell the good Captain that he's to leave his poor wife alone for at least six weeks, got it? No hounding new moms for sex. I doubt they cover that at the hospital anymore, let alone back in his day."_  
  
Sam coughed, trying to still his laughter, "I will absolutely tell him that. She's not his wife though, they're just dating."  
  
_"Uh-huh, my baby being friends with people living in sin? That I doubt."_ Steve's ears were burning but even he could hear the teasing in her voice that any other time might have made him laugh.   
  
"Remind me to write that on their car with car chalk," Sam grinned, meeting Steve's eyes, "'Just had a baby, now living in sin'."  
  
\---

  
"So to sum it up," Sam needled Steve, cuddling Ilya while Steve sorted out payment and tipping, "No orange juice, no illegal drugs, formula's awesome, your cloth diapers are better for the environment but his ass don't care, and?"  
  
"Car seats are possibly the greatest baby invention outside the vaccination," Steve repeated dutifully.   
  
"And you're living in sin. Such a poor example of modern day morals," Sam clicked his tongue, following Steve out of the diner, Ilya held in his arms happily snoozing against his shoulder.   
  
Steve scoffed, twisting the empty car seat back and forth in his hand as if it weighed nothing, "What morals? I've seen MTV you know."  
  
"Maybe next time we'll call Clint instead of my mom," Sam patted Ilya's back, watching Steve, "We should probably Amazon you some parenting books though. Hey," He nodded to the car seat, "You did attach that thing into a car, right?"  
  
"Of course I did. It wouldn't fit on the motorbike," Steve deadpanned. He checked his phone and made a face, "No 'I'm back where's my kid' text yet... That sort of limits my options on what's fun to do. There's always Clint's favorite sports bar." Steve offered. "It's quiet during the day."  
  
"Yeah, no kids in bars," Sam leaned up against the side of Steve's truck, relaxing back while Steve unlocked it to get into the back, "They don't allow that anymore."  
  
"What? The pubs in Europe always had kids in them, babies too," Steve protested lightly, working at fitting the car seat back into the base, now crouched over in the back seat.   
  
Sam probably should have let him know the way he was sat gave the street a good view of his ass, but what sort of public service would that be doing. He was a hero after all, looking out for the good of the people, "It's illegal in America. So let's add that to the list of  'do not' with a baby."  
  
Steve reappeared, peering at him over the door. He half stepped out, foot on the baseboard, hand on top of the truck so he towered over Sam, "You guys outlawed everything fun didn't you? No smoking, no running amok in the car, no more cocaine in the teething drops, or heroin in the cough syrup, and no boobs either. And you say the 40s were lame."   
  
"They were. You hadn't discovered pop, rock, or gorgeous celebrities yet." Sam ducked around the edge of the door, handing Ilya up to Steve carefully when Steve gestured for the baby.  
  
"Excuse me? We had great music, and absolutely stunning celebrities. I'll have you know I spent two weeks at the Hollywood Canteen surrounded by the most beautiful people to ever grace the big screen."  
  
Sam pulled out his phone, typing in the phrase to search later so he had more understanding of what Steve was going on about. "I have absolutely no idea what that is."  
  
Steve made a noise of annoyance from inside the truck, either at the car seat or at Sam's lack of understanding. "A club for service men and women, set up by Bette Davis. Stars and singers did everything from dishes to cooking, dancing with those about to ship out, and teaching my poor ass German."  
  
"You got taught to speak German in two weeks at a club." Sam shook his head, "That's... yeah that's a hard no."  
  
"Three days actually," Steve ducked out of the car again, carefully shutting the door to avoid a loud noise that might wake the baby. "Hedy said I had the most horrendous American accent in it she'd ever heard, but Marlene said I was passable, and with a few more days of mimicking I'd be able to speak it in a perfect, native born woman's accent."  
  
"Hedy," Sam repeated, adding the name to the list along with 'Marlene'."  
  
"Don't look so surprised, she was an amazing contribution to the SSR, even with a thriving acting career," Steve checked his watch, "Wanna go hang out at the compound? Enough interesting things there to keep us occupied."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, "You just want to beat me at pool again."  
  
"What? Me? Never."

\---  
  
Steve was nearing his third goal in his FIFA match online against Sam, what would have been his winning goal, when the door opened. He heard something heavy get set down on the ground with a thunk, and then the door shut again.  
  
The noise wasn't that loud, but it was loud enough to startle the sleeping baby on his chest. In response, Ilya's hands flailed out to the side as he kicked his feet, a blue light briefly shooting out to cover his body.  
  
A blue light that killed Steve's controller, making him stop dead in his tracks on the screen.  
  
Well, there went that game. He could almost hear Sam laughing at the compound.   
  
"Hey, boys." Natasha's greeting was cheerful enough for someone who had been out shopping all day. She half knelt on the couch next to Steve, kissing him quickly in greeting before carefully lifting Ilya from his arms into hers. "Did I make him blue, or did you?" She frowned a little at that, rubbing Ilya's back lightly and kissing the baby's temple.  
  
"Whatever you set down did that. And shut off my game." The battery would be dead now, so Steve set the controller down on the table, getting up to shut off the Xbox. He'd have to get some wired controllers. "What'd you get?"  
  
Natasha had already moved, feet up in Steve's abandoned spot, cooing to Ilya as the baby slowly lost the blue tinge around him, "Little set of drawers for you to put together."  
  
"Huh." Steve went to take a look, crouching down to look at the box. Obviously he'd have to break out the tools to set it together, but it looked only about the size of a nightstand, only two deep drawers, making it maybe knee high on him. "He's got a dresser."  
  
"It's for Wanda." Natasha called back.  
  
"Huh." Steve nudged it with his toe.  
  
He could hear amusement in Natasha's voice, "I told Clint when we weren't at the compound, and no one else was, Wanda could stay with us here."  
  
He hefted the box up under his arm, bringing it into the living room with him, "Hmm."  
  
"Because she's young and alone." Natasha had toed her shoes off, letting them drop to the floor by the sofa.  
  
Steve made an interrogatory noise, sitting down next to the couch, resting his head back against it by her arm. Ilya was back to his normal self again, pushing himself so he could hold his head up and look towards Natasha, obviously happy she was back.  
  
"Because I'm her supervising officer, and you would have offered if you had the chance before me."  
  
"Huh," he repeated eloquently, "So, who's the better dresser, Thor or me?" Steve reached up, resting his hand over hers on Ilya's back, thumb brushing across hers lightly.  
  
"Thor's tastes run towards the Shakespearean, or to many, many layers. He was more interested in the toy versions of our Avenger selves. I think Ilya's got the full set at the compound now."  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
"The Thor doll's taller than the rest, and actually has embroidered muscle details."  


**Author's Note:**

> Planned? What is planning? If you have any comments, questions, suggestions, prompts, feel feel to leave them here, or go yell at me on tumblr (anon or otherwise!): https://mysteriousangstninja.tumblr.com/


End file.
